


Just Like That

by Cur_Non



Category: 18th & 19th Century CE RPF, 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Anal, Blowjobs, M/M, PWP, Touching, a little bit of consensual choking, lots of begging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:29:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6334447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cur_Non/pseuds/Cur_Non
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Note:  No idea what sort of weird AU this is but just go with it please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like That

“I don’t know about this.”

“Come on. Just a little. Not enough that I—you know.”

“Not making me feel better about it, Alexander.”

“I love it when you say my name.”

“Shut up,” he said, but then added, “—Alexander.”

“Yes, just like that,” Hamilton said, his eyes closed and chin tilted up. “Now say it like that when you fuck me over the table.”

“You really sure about this?” Laurens asked. Hamilton opened his eyes to see him pull off his belt. He rolled it over his hand—like one might a whip, Hamilton thought—and set it aside. 

“I’m sure.”

“I’m just—I’m not really—I haven’t—"

“It’s just a little kink, John, relax.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Talk is cheap.”

“Says the guy on the ten dollar bill.”

Hamilton grinned wide at that. “Most popular bill, did you know that? I’m the most beloved of them all.”

“That you are. Now take off your pants and get on the table.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, how do you want to—"

“Just start, J., and it will happen. Just don’t rush it.”

“You aren’t the one doing all the work.”

“I like giving commands more than following them.”

Laurens bit at his neck. “A natural politician.” 

“Mm—"

“You should talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Anything. Don’t recite anything—I just want to hear your voice.” Laurens was undoing the buttons on Hamilton’s shirt, pulled it open, and knelt on the floor in front of him. 

“I hate you.”

“What?” Laurens ran his tongue along the top of Hamilton’s pants. 

“Well no, I don’t hate you, I love you—it’s just—ah—"

“Just what?”

“I—I can’t think when you—"

“You don’t have to think.”

“Words require thinking, J.”

Laurens undid Hamilton’s fly and rubbed his cock through the fabric.

“Ah—"

“See? Like that.”

“You’re so—"

“So what?”

“Such a smug bastard. Just because you—you have—you can—J., it’s hard—"

“Yes.”

“Shut up. Hard to—"

“Taste.”

Hamilton’s knees bent and he sucked in a quick breath of air. “Don’t tease me.”

“Why not?” Laurens tugged his pants down and wrapped his hand around Hamilton’s shaft. “I thought you liked being teased.”

“I—you’re just such a tease, J., it’s like—like I—"

Laurens ran just the tip of his tongue along the underside of his cock. “Like what?”

“Fuck you,” Hamilton said, his voice shaking slightly. “That’s exactly what I—"

Laurens had taken him into his mouth and he had nothing else to say.

Hamilton braced himself on the table and tipped his head back, letting Laurens work his cock, feeling just his mouth, wet and hot and—

“I want to fuck you.”

Hamilton let out his breath in a hiss of frustration. “Okay—you want me to—turn around or—"

“No, I want you just as you are. I want to see you bite your lip and scream my name and beg me for it.” Laurens rubbed the head of his cock with his thumb.

“You know, people think you’re so—sweet—but you’re not—you’re a fucking sadist—"

“And you’re a bit of a masochist, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but people know that about me, it’s not some secret personality trait—"

Laurens was pulling off his shirt. “What are you complaining about, exactly?”

“I’m not sure anymore,” Hamilton admitted. He was already out of breath and his knees felt weak. He watched Laurens undress and without even thinking about it started to jerk off, looking at how the light highlighted the lines of tight muscle on his arms and across his chest, his ass and then finally, wonderfully, his cock, hard and red and jutting upwards and he moved his hand faster, wishing he were touching him instead, wanting to take him into his mouth and make him moan and stutter in the same way—he watched Laurens take out a condom and meticulously drop in a little lubricant before sliding it down over his cock. 

“Hey,” he said, looking up at Hamilton with raised eyebrows. “Stop that.”

Hamilton whimpered, feeling guilt eat at his desperation. 

Laurens poured lube into his hand and rubbed it over his fingers and cock. He closed the gap between them and Hamilton could feel his cock pressing against the juncture of his leg and hip and then Laurens’ tongue was in his mouth and his fingers were pushing into him—

He moaned into the kiss and slid his hands over Laurens’ hips and ass, trying to spread his legs for him without his knees giving way—not as easy a task as it might seem—and sucked lightly on Laurens’ tongue.

He was rewarded with Laurens’ hand against his throat. Not hard, not even constricting, but just there, just enough that he was acutely aware of the quickening of his pulse, that Laurens surely must be able to feel, his thumb pressed as it was to his jugular.

“Please—" he said, unable to mask the neediness in his voice. “Please, J.—"

“What?” Laurens nudged his chin up and bit at his ear. “Please what?” he whispered.

“Fuck me,” Hamilton said, a bit louder than he meant to. “Please, fuck me, fuck me now, I can’t wait—"

“You can’t wait?”

“No, I—please, J.,” he whined. “Please—"

Laurens pulled his hand away and slid his cock into him, slowly, so slowly that Hamilton whimpered and cursed at him, braced himself on the desk, tried to slide down, to get him to speed up, precum dripping down his shaft in anticipation. He wanted to complain but he couldn’t find the words—he, Alexander Hamilton, unable to find the words, what a joke, what a fucking joke, but Laurens was biting at his shoulder and pressing his thumb against his throat and he sucked in a shaking breath, experimentally, and he knew he would come right then if John touched him.

Laurens didn’t, wouldn’t—purposefully—aggravatingly—wouldn’t touch him, just held him in place, hand pressing into his throat until he really could feel it, and fucked him harder, too, faster and with more force, every thrust bringing what seemed like a stronger jolt of pleasure—

“You like that?”

“Yes, yes—"

“Alexander—"

“Please—"

“Please what?”

“Please don’t stop, J.—Please—I don’t want you to—"

“I’m not going to.”

“Tighter, please, I—" 

“More?”

“Yes—just a—just a little—"

Laurens tightened his grip. “Now?”

“Good, fine, yes, just like that—just—like that—"

Hamilton’s mind was swimming, finally—finally that incessant internal monologue was gone, and everything was heat and pleasure and—

“Alexander—"

Laurens’ voice, a low growl in his ear.

“I’m going to come soon.”

Hamilton moaned, barely able to form the words. “Please, please J., touch me, please—"

Laurens wrapped his free hand around Hamilton’s cock and rubbed at his head, moving quickly up and down his length, and Hamilton felt his whole body tremble, felt the pressure and pleasure that had built for so long crest over him in waves and he lost himself in it, pressed his forehead against Laurens’ shoulder as he folded in on himself and all he could hear was John moaning in his ear, hearing his name repeated back to him—

“Alexander—Alex-ander—"

Laurens cupped his face in his hands and kissed him, hard, harder than usual, almost bruising him and pushing his tongue into his mouth, their bodies pressed together, hot and wet with sweat and cum, and they stayed like that a long time, both panting, and John pressed his cheek to Hamilton’s, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Like that?”

“Yes,” Hamilton said, still feeling a bit lightheaded. “Just like that.”


End file.
